


For Once

by jetblacklilac



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1960s vibe, F/M, sweeties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetblacklilac/pseuds/jetblacklilac
Summary: They're each other's downfall





	For Once

She peeked over her shoulder and back at her parents, conversing with some other lawyers towns over. Retracing her steps, she stopped at the gazebo, now vacant of anyone but her and the staff cleaning up the tables. She wasn’t entirely keen on watching the fireworks display so she heads towards the bridge; her sanctuary.

 

To her complete surprise, there was another person by the bridge. Margaery made a move to turn back but the enigmatic person called her name; the voice catalysing the familiar tingles in her veins. She gingerly walked to his side, not looking at him but at the sunset beyond the horizon. She pressed her elbows on the wooden rail; mimicking his posture.

 

“You’ll miss the fireworks.” Robb murmured, the both of them still haven’t eyed each other but their hands are oh so close.

 

“I won’t. There’s a small hill not far from here that has the perfect view of it.” Margaery explained; her composure lax. It’s such a temptation to look at Robb; feel mesmerized at how the colours of sunset wash over his features.

 

He pushed himself off and stood with his hands on his sides. “Show me then, bookworm.” He urged and silently ambles with her.

 

Before, hesitation would’ve stilled her movements moving her farther away from her parents and the imminent rejection of privacy with him. Now, distance is a distasteful word in her vocabulary.

 

They stroll on the rough road of the golf course, winding down a path until it leads to a small hill. Perched on top of the hill was a broad and large tree. Its trunk thick and rough in texture, the branches expanded in a few foot and its roots spread out in twisting patterns on the ground.

 

Oddly enough, there was a thick scarlet blanket beneath the oak tree. “Someone must’ve left it here for the fireworks display.” She assumed and sat on it, the fabric brushing against her legs and she relaxed against the trunk.

 

Robb sat next to her, their shoulders almost touching, and he folded his hands on his lap. “This is nice. How do you end up here every time it’s time for the main event?” He wondered, glancing at her with those captivating orbs.

 

“I used to be scared of fireworks. I’ll run from the noise and the blares of colours on the sky. But one night, as I covered my ears, crouching beneath this tree, I saw the colours without the noise; it was the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. So now, I go up here and enjoy the view.” She explained, and then she blushed at how much she rambled. Mother always lectured her on only listening to men talk. Girls shouldn’t be excessively vocal in their presence. “I’m sorry. It’s silly I know.”

 

He rolled his eyes at that. “I’ll have none of that nonsense! That was an amusing anecdote, bookworm.” He dismissed and sighed in comfort. “Okay, it’s my turn to talk about myself. I came here at the bridge is because I wanted some alone time away from my friends and family. I love them but I’m not entirely alone even in my own room because I share it with Jon.”

 

Margaery’s eyes widened at that. “I, I’m terribly sorry if I’m disturbing you.” She profusely apologized and was about to stand up but his hand circled around her wrist and gently tugged her down at his side once more.

 

“I don’t mind. I like being alone with you.” He admitted without any shame in his voice. His tone rang of certainty and it sent tingles down her spine at his nonchalant declaration. His thumb briefly swiped on the pulse maddeningly beating on her skin but his face doesn’t let on how he’s feeling. About what? Margaery doesn’t even want to know.

 

She settled next to him, her dress clouding on her hips and thighs. The sight of the sunset was swiftly being overridden the velvet blanket of the night with stars stitched on it; twinkling from a distance. “I shouldn’t be alone with you.” She muttered, the sentence alone brought forth something they haven’t discussed at all. This constant isolation from the world and the repetition is an enigma for her. “My friends would freak. My parents would scold me and most likely ship me off to London.” She divulges with hesitance.

 

Robb’s icy stare ironically boiled her blood, the intensity of his attention towards her was something she never had before. “Yet you’re still here.” He whispered, unintentionally twisting his body to her; like gravity pulling any object closer to it. She’s his downfall. “Why?”

 

_ Questions, questions, they’re dangerous things to minds that’ll take anything but what’s in front of them.  _ “Because I like being alone with you too, there are no rules or judgement. It’s the closest feeling of freedom I know.” She carefully explains, mindful of her words that could be interpreted at something else, things she hasn’t pondered on yet.

 

He smiled, the same adoring expression washing over his face. “I feel the same way, bookworm.” He agrees.

 

“You know, this is my ideal date.” Margaery blurted. With the pale moonlight illuminating the country club, he could see her cheeks glow red. Her eyes darted down in mortification and her hands twisted on her dress.

 

“Really now, a picnic under the moonlight? Very romantic, I say.” Robb teases with a laugh. He patted his pockets and grinned. Fishing out a neatly folded napkin, he unfurled it to reveal squares of the beloved lemon cakes. “I caught Arya trying to give it to a server’s boy. I told her to give less so it’ll be less obvious. Want some?” He offered and laid it out between them.

 

Margaery grinned and takes a bite out of one. The familiar taste of sugar and lemon invades her mouth in a sweet conquest and she doesn’t mind at all. They ate the small bunch of lemon cakes as they conversed, laughing and touching subjects that made the night even sweeter without the desserts on their hands.

 

Robb stood up, stretching his hand out. “Dance with me.” He urges with a tone no one can deny.

She stands up, hand reaching for his and the other rests on his shoulder. To her surprise, Robb drops their hold and places both of his hands on her hips, the touch sent warmth in her system that she forgot they’re out in the chill night. “We don’t have music, jock.” She lightly scolded but their bodies started to sway with shy smiles on their faces.

 

Maybe it was because of party’s buzz or the fact they’re alone once more that inspired Robb to rest his forehead on hers, his neck craned down and his body bent towards her. They couldn’t take their eyes off each other even if they wanted to but who’d want that? “We don’t need music.” He whispered.

 

This dance void of music felt far more enchanting and intimate than the routine moves she had with Joffrey. If he asked her of the blond at that moment, Margaery wouldn’t remember because all her focus is poured over his reverent expression, his embrace that could melt ice, and the rhythmic beats of his heart.

 

She curled on his chest, his chin grazing on the crown of her head. They danced for what could’ve been hours or days and they wouldn’t notice. He twirls her around once in a while and earned giggles from her and he swears he felt butterfly kisses on his chest where Margaery rests her cheek at; his heart.

She frowned a bit at feeling Robb pull her away from his furnace of a body; the kind of addicting cosiness that she thought impossible a person could have.

 

“In first dates, they usually kiss their date. Would it be okay if I kiss you? I mean, it’s better if you kiss someone you know so well and you’re comfortable with them. Is it okay?” Robb nearly pleaded and his hand leaves her hip to cup her cheek.

 

She feels the same thrill whenever she’s with him intensify at his request. If someone told her one of the most popular athletes in their school would be asking her for a kiss, she would’ve thought it was a sick joke. But no, it’s the fondest reality she’s in.

 

Mother would tell her to not be alone with Robb. She would reason that Margaery is far too young to know intimate actions and she shouldn’t go around kissing this Stark. A girl shouldn’t be all alone sneaking around in dates and study sessions with a boy. Loras and her other friends would argue there isn’t anything good that could result from being friends with Robb. They’d say the jock was somehow using her for a clandestine entertainment only to be portrayed as a joke somewhere along the lines.

 

So, Margaery stood on her tip toes and gently places her mouth on his. There was a second of nonresponse that Margaery felt doubt. She pulled away only to be kissed the second time around. But at their second attempt, Robb is ardently moving his lips against hers in a way a poet flicks their wrist as they write. Poems of discreet admiration are written on her lips, worshipping the girl in his arms. Kissing, Margaery realized is poetry in motion. Her eyes fluttered close and she brings her hands higher from his shoulders to his neck, slowly tightening her grip.

 

Their lips move in a sensual dance and they definitely didn’t need music now. Robb’s hand cupped her cheek and the other one is constantly massaging her waist, inching her impossibly closer. Margaery broke the kiss because her back was gently slammed against something rough. Maybe the tree trunk?

“Are you okay? Was it too much?” Robb fretted and his hand on her waist slid up to hold her other cheek, their foreheads together, and the only sounds in the air are their heavy breathings.

 

Margaery leaned up and pecked him on the mouth, addicted to the softness this boy has. “Was that too much?” She returned his question with a giggle.

 

He wears the same beam as he leans down to kiss her again. They return to the rhythmic dance of their move only this time, he slyly weaves his tongue in her mouth and they both smile at the delighted sound that bubbled in her throat.

 

Kissing has never been a thought that has a space in her head, too occupied with grades and her future. But now, it’s the only thing she can think of. If Robb asked her about anything of their subjects, she’d only answer his name. His silky hair, his skin, his sinful lips are the answers she has for everything at that moment.

 

“Best first date ever.”  Margaery mumbled against his lips, their breaths tumbling in each other’s mouths, their chests heaving, and their faces glowed with something so obvious anyone would’ve assumed they were lovers.

 

Robb didn’t reply and kissed her again.

 

The pair didn’t take note of the fireworks exploding the sky in noise and sparkling colours. But they didn’t need to for they felt it tickling their veins and expanding of warmth and frenzied buzz in their chests.

 

What they should’ve noticed is a small body, running with a grin but stopped as soon as he spotted the two; kissing, hands wandering on the available patches of skin. Bran tilted his head to the side with a confusion twisting his mouth. “They have my spot. Now, I can’t hide from Rickon.” He whined and sprinted on the opposite direction, searching for another tall tree to hide from his younger brother.

**Author's Note:**

> this is co cheesy but please let me know what you think


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